All I Have Are the Stars

Chapter Five - The Inn

Noah screamed in laughter, collapsing onto the hard ground as he re-read the sign over and over again. The Inn. The Moonglow Inn. The exact Inn where he knew his victim was. He reached into his messenger bag to find his hunting knife Allister gave him. He shivered, the cold, dead image still plaguing his mind. He arose from the ground, his laughter morphing into hacking coughs. After composing himself, a glimpse of rational-Noah reached out from the insanity. What if he isn't here? Are you sure you're not crazy? Noah! What are you doing!? He shoved all of them aside forcefully, yet one still lingered. So much so that he loosened his grip on the knife for a moment.

Was Allister dead?

It was an insane thought, he knew, Allister couldn't be dead. He was right there! The same witty, reckless, playful Allister who he swore would be his best friend for life. He was there, right?

"Yes, he was there, he had to be." Noah spoke aloud, stumbling into the open room and onto a chair. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving him drunk enraged. He replayed the scene in his head yet again, the ghost of the cold touch still gripping his arm. Throwing the knife into his bag, he got up, more determined to prove to himself that he isn't insane. No way he could be. Of course, he was on his way to kill a man, which didn't help his circumstances. The thought hit him like a tree branch as he actually took the time to contemplate it. He was on his way to kill a man. The entire reason why he left, why he came to this god forsaken town, was to kill the man who took his beloved vial.

Beloved vial?

Noah shook his head vigorously as he stood, almost collapsing again. He needed his vial to see his beloved again. His withdrawal was getting the best of him. Steadying himself, he looked towards the open door, seeing a figure looking down and mumbling approach. He dove behind the chair, slowing his breathing. The mumbling grew louder as he heard footsteps and a door slam. Peering out slightly, he looked to see the figure in his entirety. The figure paced around the room, as if waiting for his death. Noah tried to make out his features, but his vision was coated in blurs and rage. Said figure sat down in the chair Noah hid behind, sighing loudly. He began to talk to himself.

"What have I done, what have I done?!" He repeated as his whole body shook, making Noah feel slightly guilty for wanting to end this worthless man's life. The man stood up again, reaching into his pocket. Noah had it all planned out, the man would pull out the vial, Noah would spring up from the chair accusing him of thievery, the man would plead guilty, and Noah would kill him.

Only plotting somebody's death never goes as planned, does it?

What the man pulled out was something only very few could recognize. Any other onlooker would've seen a toothpick, or even a cat whisker, yet Noah saw the magical, addictive, pure state it was.

A raw fairy bone. The man had an outlawed fairy bone. This man killed a fairy.

Noah allowed himself to be in awe as he pulled out even more from a small matchbox in his pocket. He lifted one to his mouth, lit a match, and smoked it as if it was a cigarette. He had never seen such a site. Of course, there was an underground group of individuals who were known for harnessing the magic part of the bones, and that's where Noah got his. Yet, it was an entirely new concept to smoke them. The man's eyes transformed from bloodshot red to a mix of purple, pink, and blue. His stature changed as he took another long drag, the bone disappearing quicker than Noah could see. The man then fell onto the floor, out cold, as his body shook and jerked. He knew what this was, and didn't blame him for wanting to see his own lost love again. It was the start of the transition into the memory part of the brain, the bones allowing for the user to be able to control the memory.

He stood over the man, his eyes losing their murderous intent for a moment. He knew the man wouldn't feel a thing if he were hit or slapped. Noah kicked him, just for good measure, then crouched to inspect him more. His eyes were portals to another world, the colors slowly meshing together to form a galaxy of memories and sorrow. He was largely built, shorter than Noah, and looked pathetic. Although Noah couldn't help but empathize with him. He couldn't help yet take a moment to try and conjure up who this man held dear to him, before they were ripped away from his arms. A lover, maybe, or perhaps a family member. A friend? Or maybe this man was so lonely that his pet cat had died. 'No,' Insane Noah was back, 'this man stole what is rightfully mine. He's nothing more than a depressed theft.' Yet isn't that all I am as well?

The man's muscles started to twitch. Noah stood abruptly, looking to his bag for his knife. It was now or never. Or wait until he goes under again. Now until he used up all of the only thing which brought Noah happiness. The man's arm jerked upwards, his eyes darkening. Noah reached in for the knife, unsheathing it from the leather cover. His legs jerked upwards as well, them violently slamming against the floor as his eyes became darker and darker. Noah knew what was happening now. The loss. The fairy bones make the memories feel euphoric, yet the day you lose them is just as strong. Noah didn't know how it affected others, but he knew he moved as well as he violently tore up his living space. The man looked like a dying salmon, although even salmon reached a limit before they flopped into death. The man kept jerking, the items in the room started to shake. Noah didn't know how long this would last, nor if he could even kill him before he woke up. The shaking grew more violent as Noah grabbed the chair for stability. His eyes were a soulless black.

The shaking stopped. Noah peaked from where he was to see the man limp on the ground. He hesitated before inspecting the body again. He didn't know when he would bolt upwards in panic like Noah had done so many times before. The time after the loss was always a blur. Time becomes distorted and reality looks like a distant fantasy. His eyes were still black and his skin felt cold. Noah could easily kill him right now. A slit to his throat and he'd be gone. He'd lose enough blood before he woke up. He could easily be erased, never to steal from him again. Noah could have his beloved back.

Though something was whispering for him to wait. A tiny voice crying out to Noah to hesitate. To think this through. All the repercussions finally flew through his head as he released his grip on the knife. Noah could just take the vial back, write the man an angry letter, and be on his way. 'Yes, that's reasonable, right?' He thought.

Too bad his demons' screaming overpowered any reasonable thought Noah had.

His vision became clouded as he gripped his knife again. The man's eyes were morphing from black to gray, soon to be white. White, then their normal color. Then the man would regain consciousness. His demons needed to be suppressed, he needed those bones. He needed his vial. He craved that vial more than life itself, and this man would pay for what he's done.

"Ashlynn's gone Ashlynn's gone!" His demons yelled in a singsong voice, blocking all other thoughts. "Ashlynn's gone forever Ashlynn's gone forever Ashlynn's gone forever!"

"No!" Noah screamed before angrily unsheathing his knife, rolling the man over so his neck was exposed. The knife slid across the man's neck like butter, and he did it again, then again, then one more time. A huge gash opened, blood pouring onto the wooden floor. He threw his knife into a corner of the room, tugging at his hair as sobs escaped him. His eyes were flooded with tears as he paced the room mumbling "What have I done?"

The man's eyes flashed white, then brown, and the final thing he saw before he fully went under was an insane, drunk, heartbroken man in withdrawal whose eyes were plagued. Plagued by the same toxic desire to experience euphoric death through their loved ones.